I've got a bad feeling about this!
by caffinebunny
Summary: Han discovers that no good deed goes unpunished.  AKA Triplets in Space!


Title: "I've got a bad feeling about this!"

Author: medjai_trowa

Rating: Gen/G

Notes: Written for elebridith for dollars4dreams.

Summary: Triplets and Smugglers and Jedi, oh my!

Notes 2: Unmittigated crack. I am becoming somewhat concerned about the things my brain throws out.

Sources: .com/ (Yes, it's a wiki so I apologise for any inaccuracies)

Han sees them as he's heading out to the Falcon, and proceeds to thank anyone out there who might be smiling kindly on him right now that he has a paying customer and a trip that will take him off world, away from both Jabba and that lunatic and his three idiots.

The stockiest of the three escaped clones, bringing up the rear, salutes him briefly before heading after the others and into the Cantina and Han smirks to himself. He'd cop to shooting Greedo – pre-emptive self defence, honest Mr Stormtrooper, sir – but if they found him in the proximity of those four, even if he hadn't started the trouble or been directly involved in any way, someone might start putting two and two together. After all, only so many people had been regular visitors at the Empire's reinstated cloning program.

When he heard, more than a year later through the long and convoluted grape-vine that encompasses smugglers and the Rebellion alike, that there had been a tearing fight which even by the Mos Eisley cantina's usual standards had been excessively destructive, he shakes his head and smiles in something akin to relief.

The relief lasts for maybe an hour until Wedge and Luke amble past leading two men with long hair, both in the hideously orange pressure suits which suited precisely no-one and then crushing dread replace it. Carlson and the clone who now called himself Kane, he presumes. Carlson's pet project in the Corellian training camp for the clones which had, ultimately, led to Carlson and three of the clones breaking out in a messy, determined blaze of blaster fire.

Damn the grape-vine for not being hyperefficient. One of the primary sources was evidently leakier than he remembered. It had to be something to do with Carlson. For an Imperial officer, even a Corellian one, the man was far too laid back.

He sighs. Sure, he wore the bloodstripes, and that alone clued most people he met into his origins and original allegiances, but for a potential member of the original clone army and one of the self-same army's trainers to recognise him? Much as he was a hero of the Rebellion right now, he doubted they would hesitate much before incarcerating and 'interviewing' him.

To his surprise, Carlson caught his eye and _glared_.

Well, if that wasn't an indication he should carefully not mention their connection, he didn't know what was.

Someone behind him snorted. "Fighter pilots," a familiar gruff voice grumbled fondly. "Fucking rockstars."

Han froze. "Okay," he said eventually as Spencer moved surreptitiously into view, carrying a suspiciously large arc-welder and a grey crate of hydrospanners. "You I understand. Those two I understand. Force knows we need more pilots. Where's Three."

"Linds?" Spencer asked wryly. "Around. Skywalker took an interest. Turns out cloning doesn't prevent the occasional bit of genetic blurring."

Han frowned at him. "What?"

Spencer snorted again, this time in amusement at Han's confusion. "He's force sensitive."

Leaving Han behind, gaping after him, Spencer headed off in the direction of the hanger, cheerfully calling a greeting to someone just out of Han's line of sight.

The next time Han encountered any of the triplets was after they had bugged out of the Hoth base and he had been co-opted to transport a strike team to a remote outpost on Ryloth, from where they would make their own way as far into the Core Worlds as possible.

Using a stolen Corellian Acton VI freighter, the plan was to set the small team up as a household who had travelled to Ryloth with the intent of purchasing a second slave to compliment their current slave, a part played by one of the palest Twi'lek Han had met in his travels, a young woman who went simply by Parker.

She was currently hovering near Spencer, who was glaring at a tall, dark skinned young man who was fiddling with something cybernetic and awkward looking while the third man and a second, human, woman sat on the other side of the room playing Sabaac.

Chewbacca roared a greeting from behind him, one the team returned with a variety of slightly distracted calls, before heading off to the cockpit to make the preflight checks. With an apparently sudden decision, Parker bounded past him after Chewie, prompting a yell of, "There's something wrong with you!" from Spencer.

The dark young man snorted. "You only just figure that out man?" he asked, tone amused.

Spencer shook his head, then nodded at the device. "You done with that?"

Glaring at Spencer, the young man nodded and handed it over. "Yeah. Don't punch people with it next time."

Spencer returned the glare with interest. "That's what I do, Hardison," he growled, tone somewhat exasperated. "Solo," he added with a nod, heading for crew quarters as he clicked the prosthetic hand back into place.

That gave Han pause. "Hey," he called. "Wait, I thought it was MacDonald had the false hand?"

Spencer turned to him and...

No, it really wasn't Spencer, was it. Not quite so heavy round the shoulders, less forceful scowl, this was MacDonald, number three of the 'triplets' Carlson had broken out.

That could only mean that Spencer was already elsewhere.

"He's meeting us on Ryloth," said a voice behind him. Ford, the leader of this little team of lunatics. "He's making contact with a Commander Chase, under Admiral Angelus. They're helping us get to the Core."

And that? That was the craziest thing he'd ever heard. Angelus was a psychopath, pure and simple. He wouldn't be helping anyone do anything but die slowly. He said as much, only not so politely, and would have said more but was abruptly pulled up by someone clearing their throat behind him.

Leia. "Your Worshipfulness," he greeted warily, feeling somewhat cornered. "Here to see us off?"

She raised a brow at him. "Making sure you were on your way. Imagine my surprise to find you still here."

"Hey!" He would have protested, but Parker was back, barging past him to reach MacDonald, who slung an arm around her mostly naked waist and Han had to roll his eyes. "Right," he snapped. "Everyone not wanting to join the trip to Ryloth get off the ship. You got a preferred return course for us, princess, or did you just come to make conversation?"

She glared but gave a sharp nod. "Dantooine. Here's the signal and landing codes. You should have space here."

Practically snatching the recorder from her, he shooed her away down the ramp and sealed the ship, resignedly joining Chewie in the cockpit.

Chewbacca studied him for a long moment.

"Shut up," he warned before his partner could pass comment on _anything_.


End file.
